The Back up Job
by adr13
Summary: Nate and Sophie are kidnapped. They team enlists the help of a burned spy to stop Moreau. (Title change)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I own nothing.

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><p>The day was uncomfortably hot. The sun was directly overhead, shimmering down and making it unbearable for anyone wearing real clothing. The water was cool and a beautiful shade of blue. It was the perfect day to be at the beach.<p>

Nate Ford leaned back in his chair, drawing his feet back inside the shade cast by his umbrella. No matter how much sunscreen he applied, his Irish skin still burned under the intense Florida rays.

He watched his wife wade though the waves, smiling proudly as all heads turned to track her movements across the sand. Ignoring her own seat, Sophie placed herself across his lap. She kissed him, dripping water over her husband. She smiled. "Are you ever going to get in the water?"

"Eventually." He traced his fingers over her thighs. "Ready for lunch?"

Sophie giggled. "Yes, but you will swim before the trip is over."

"Fair enough." Nate gathered their things as Sophie donned her cover up.

They picked a cantina that was close to their hotel. After they ordered their food and got settled, Nate noticed that Sophie looked far away. "What's on your mind?"

"I wonder how they are doing." She said with a sigh and a sip of wine.

She didn't need to elaborate on who 'they' were. It had almost been a year since they had left Portland and got married. They had treated the last few months as one long honeymoon. She had enjoyed it immensely, but they slowly crept back into her mind when it was quiet.

"They can handle themselves." Nate didn't want to admit that he missed them as well. For all his grumbling, they were a family. "They know that they can call if they need us."

"I know but even Parker isn't calling for relationship advice any more..."

"They're ok." Nate assured her. "When we get back to the hotel, we can call them on the video call thing."

Sophie smiled at Nate's lack of proper tech knowledge. "OK."

They enjoyed their meal then did some shopping on the way back to the hotel. Sophie was ready for a shower. It was nearly impossible to get all the sand off otherwise.

Sophie lay her shopping bags on the bed and strolled into the spacious bathroom. She started taking her hair down and ran a brush through it. She called out. "Where do you want to go next?"

A soft thud was her only answer. "Nate?"

She stepped out, she saw Nate on his knees in the entryway. There were two men leaning over him. "Nate!"

One of the men lunged at her, a syringe in hand. She didn't get very far before the man grabbed her and injected a powerful sedative. The room shifted and she stumbled, falling to her knees. The last thing she saw was Nate's unconscious form in front of her.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I own nothing.

Enjoy!

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><p>Hardison sat downstairs in the brew pub, playing on his laptop. He had escaped the apartment office an hour before when he had asked Parker out to see the newest sci-fi movie and she bluntly turned him down. It embarrassed him more that it had happened in front of Eliot. Over the last month or more he had noticed subtle changes in her. She never stayed late with him like she used to, or stay overnight. She would be gone when he woke up or made an excuse not to stay. What was going on with her?

His thoughts were interrupted when a small manila envelope was placed in front of him. He looked up to see one of the waitresses, Amy.

"This just came for you." She smiled before going back to her tables.

"Thanks." He opened it absent mindedly and found a DVD inside. The word 'urgent' was scrawled across the top in red letters. He placed it into his lap top. His jaw dropped at the image that popped up on his screen.

He abandoned his beer on the counter, taking the stairs two at a time to the office/living space upstairs.

He entered, finding Parker and Eliot in the middle of a series of yoga moves. They were standing on their left legs, the sole of the right resting on the inner thighs. As he watched, Parker slowly reached one of her upraised arms over and poked Eliot in the ribs.

The movement unbalanced the hitter and his eyes flew open as he toppled over. Parker laughed triumphantly as he threw a towel in her face.

His gut tightened slightly with jealously, but there wasn't time to act on it. He thunked the laptop onto the counter. "Guys! Get over here!"

"Whatcha got?" Parker danced over to the counter.

"Something bad, I think. Amy just handed it to me." He typed in a series of commands and images of Nate and Sophie unconscious and cuffed to chairs filled the big screens.

Parker gasped. "No…"

"What?" Eliot came to stand next to him.

Hardsion pointed to the screen. "This just came."

"From who?"

"I don't know Eliot; they didn't sign their name to it." The hacker snapped. He was already trying to track their cell phones. They were turned off. The batteries must have been removed because he couldn't hack them to turn it back on.

"Post marked Miami." Parker tossed the envelope aside. Only that morning she considered calling them. She'd wanted to ask her relationship questions. Things that she just didn't understand and needed help with.

The camera shook slightly as the person holding it moved. Moreau stepping in the frame, making Parker gasp.

"Hello, Spencer." He sneered into the camera. "I am willing to trade their lives for yours. You have two days. Happy hunting."

"We don't even know where in Miami they are." Hardison commented.

"Why didn't he call us?" Parker wondered.

"Because I can't trace him this way." Hardison was already packing up his laptops. "And he knows it."

"It's a trap." Eliot commented. His stomach dropped sharply. This would end badly. Maybe he should go by himself…

"We are all going." Hardison stated, already knowing what he was thinking.

"He wants me." Eliot said it although he knew that they would insist on coming.

"We're going." Hardison said with finality that he's never used before. "I'll get us a flight and we can come up with a brilliant plan in the air."

* * *

><p>Nate woke with a pounding headache. How much did he have to drink last night? Then he remembered: none. He went to rub his head, but realized that he couldn't. Forcing his eyes open, he found himself in a large living room. Each of his hands was cuffed to the arm of a chair. Two men sat on a nearby couch, their glocks in shoulder holsters. A noise to his left took his attention. His heat sank as he saw Sophie similarly tied. She was just coming around.<p>

"Sophie?" He said gently. The way he felt and the lack of bruises on Sophie suggested that they had been drugged before they were taken from the hotel.

"Quiet!" one of the guards intoned.

The man's warning brought her to full consciousness. After going through the same process that he just had, she came to the same realization. She looked fearfully at her husband. He shrugged, having no answer for her. He was just as lost as her.

One of the men stood and left the room. After a moment, Daemon Moreau stepped into the room.

"Moreau!" Nate spat. "I should have known."

"Why are we here?" Sophie demanded.

"I thought you were smarter than that Miss Dever—oh wait, it's Ford now." His smile held no mirth or kindness. "How nice. The reason is simple. Revenge. I nearly lost everything when you left me in that cell in San Lorenzo. I intend to get payback for it."

"We are not part of the team anymore, the others aren't even here." Nate informed him.

"Oh, I know all about your move to Portland." Moreau said. "I have already contacted them. They will be here soon enough."

"They aren't that stupid." Sophie commented.

"Most people are." Moreau said, seemingly unconcerned at her outburst.

Nate knew that Moreau was right. Even if he could somehow get a message to them saying not to come, they still would. No matter what. The best thing was to come up with a plan and try to escape. "How did you get out of that hole we left you in?"

"I have many friends in many places." Moreau said.

"I thought you killed all your friends." Nate worked his cuffs, feeling for a weak spot.

"It is rude to insult your host. You are starting to annoy me." He signaled his man.  
>A blonde man stepped forward, slamming the butt end of a shot gun into the captive's shin.<p>

Nate heard the crack milliseconds before the pain hit. He let out a strangled groan that sounded strange to his ears. Pain radiated upward, consuming his entire leg. He gritted his teeth, swearing to himself.  
>"Nate!" Sophie swore at the gunrunner. " you'll pay for that!"<br>"No my dear, you all will pay for San Lorenzo."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

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><p>The flight from Portland to Miami was a tense six hours. During that time, Hardison analyzed the video frame by frame. There was nothing in the background that gave away a location. He filtered out different frequencies and found a few boat engine noises, sirens and other normal Miami sounds. All he could tell was that it was a nice looking living room with possibly rented furniture. He sighed and went over the film again.<p>

Parker was sitting in the back of the plane by herself. Hardison was unable to get seats together since it was last minute. She wandered about the people that he had bumped to get the seats. She smiled faintly as she pictured their faces when they were told.

Eliot was plotting. He knew that they needed to hit the ground running. Moreau would be waiting and they would need a good plan to get Nate and Sophie out. Nothing he could think of got them all out. He rubbed his face, instinctively checking out the others. Everyone seemed alright, with no obvious threat. He leaned his seat back and tried to relax. He knew once they landed, no one was sleeping.

* * *

><p>Moreau dismissed the buyer as soon as the deal was through. "Mr. Oliver, get in here."<p>

Carl Oliver was a bulky ex-ranger with a complex. He promptly entered the room. "Yes sir?"

"Cover the airports." Moreau instructed. "I want them the minute they are off the plane."

"If we miss them sir?"

"Use your imagination." Moreau snapped. "Do not come back here without them."

Oliver nodded sharply. "Yes sir."

"And Oliver," he called.

He turned back to see him now standing at the window, looking out.

"Bring him back alive."

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><p>As a spy, you get used to a lot of things. Lack of sleep, lack of food, water, showers. That doesn't mean you have to like it, especially when your cell phone is ringing at 4 in the morning.<p>

Michael Weston rolled over, reaching blindly for the offending object. He checked the caller ID before answering. "Yeah Sam?"

"You're going to kiss me Mike." Sam greeted too happily for the time of day.

"I doubt it." Michael shot back.

"I have a lead on your guy. He is staying in the Walton Hotel room 601." Sam was proud of himself. "I got you a room next to him."

"You're amazing Sam." Michael was already getting dressed.

"That's what the ladies tell me."

Michael hung up without responding to the comment. He grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and headed out the door.

* * *

><p>It was late in the afternoon when they landed in Miami. Hardison went for a rental car while Eliot and Parker went to retrieve the luggage.<p>

Parker watched the carousel with the bags spin slowly, waiting for theirs. "Do you have a plan yet?"

He thought about lying to her, but couldn't see a point. "Not yet." At the worried look on her face, he added. "But we will."

Parker wanted him to be right. But how many times could they go against Moreau and come out on top? This time he had the mastermind. Were they smart enough without him? For the first time since they left, she began to wonder.

The grey sedan that Hardison rented was waiting outside and they loaded up quickly. Hardison chose the motel en route and they paid cash at the desk. As far as they could tell, they were not followed.

The room was on the fifth floor, close to the stairs. The room itself was on the small side, only having two full size beds and a small table. It had a small TV on top of an equally small dresser. Hardison immediately took over the table for his laptop and some of the equipment.

"Ok, I went over this on the plane." Hardison began as the others stood behind him to see the screen. "I can't get a location from it. Just some sirens and speed boats. A few times you can see a speed boat through the window, but it doesn't help much. The house itself looks like one of those ritzy, only used three weeks a year type. So he could be renting it. I'm searching for recent rentals."

Eliot nodded. "Go back several months; he could have set up shop before the kidnapping."

Hardison looked hurt at the suggestion. "You want to do my job?"

Eliot resisted the urge to smack him. Parker noticed and rolled her eyes and took up residence on the table. "When are we getting food?"

Hardison held his hands in the air. "Can I finish, is that ok with y'all?"

"What else?" Eliot prodded.

"I'm tracking down the postmark to see if I can see where it came from." Hardison replied. "It would narrow the area."

Eliot thought for a moment. "Check for an increase in arms deals."

"Yeah, 'cuz there is a whole data base for that." He complained.

Parker saw Eliot raise his hand in preparation for a smack. "I'm hungry."

Eliot was momentarily distracted from his task. He picked up the rental car keys and headed for the door. "I'm going for food."

"Bring back some cereal." Parker called to him.

"Orange soda also!" Hardison added. "And gummy frogs."

Eliot rolled his eyes at the empty hall. Was he the only one who ate real food? He used extra precaution in walking to the corner drug store. This was not the time to get caught.

Once inside, he quickly found Parker's favorite cereal; a sweet, marshmallow thing with a leprechaun on the box. Then grabbed the soda. He wished that he could get real food, but there was nowhere to cook in the small motel room. So he had to settle for microwavable dinners.

He checked out and headed back across the street. He kept a look out in the lobby and hall for anyone suspicious. Even with all his precaution, he never saw the man that jumped out from behind the vending machine.

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><p>The next Chapter should be longer! Thanks for reviewing!<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

This is a long chapter, so you have been warned! :)

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><p>Parker paced the room, unable to sit in one place after the flight. She wished that she could have going with Eliot, she had to get her nervous energy out somehow. Maybe she could find a building to jump off...<p>

Hardison knew what she was thinking. He also knew that she would jump out the window if he didn't watch her. He intercepted her in her path, pulling her close to his chest.

"We'll get them back babe."

"I know." Parker looked away, feeling suddenly awkward in his embrace. She pulled back a slightly, testing his grip.

He held her tighter, his hand coming up to caress her face. He sensed her hesitation, but ignored it. He kissed her, holding her against his chest.

Parker felt...wrong almost during the kiss. Was she just leading him on? Or was this a natural part of relationships? She felt different from when they had started dating. She gently pushed him back, her eyes going to the floor. "Not now."

Hardison leaned in for another kiss before releasing her. It wasn't lost on him that she took up residence on the far end of the room. He clinched his jaw and went back to the computer. He dove into cyber world, ignoring the knowing feeling growing in his gut.

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><p>Over the last few years, Michael Weston had gotten used to surprises. Sometimes though, they can still sneak up on you. He had been in the hotel doing recon on a subject. But that had turned out to be a bum lead. As he walked down the hall, he called Fiona to give her the update. He paused at the familiar sound of a fight up ahead.<p>

Michael reached the little alcove that held the ice and vending machines. He was stunned to see a very one-sided fight. Two men in dark clothes lay out cold on the ugly floral carpet. Four more men crowded into the corner, kicking and punching at a long haired man on the floor. The man on the floor managed to get in some good kicks, but was out matched by the body builders that had knocked him down.

Normally, he would just walk way. For all he knew, this guy owed money to someone. He was about to turn back the way he came, when he got a good look at the guy that had been knocked to the ground. The stocky man's face was covered with his hair but he had a distinctive fighting style. He had seen it before.

Michael jumped into the fray and grabbed a dark clad man by his collar, pulling him away before he could take a night stick to the man's head. "Hi, can I cut in?"

The attacker looked to be of eastern European decent. He snarled and threw a punch at Michael's face. "Stay out of this!"

The man was soon unconscious at the ex-spy's feet. At Michael's interference, the thugs' attention moved from the long-haired man on the floor long enough for him to get back on his feet. Seconds later the attackers were all unconscious. The two men stood on opposite sides of the bodies, panting from excursion.

Michael could see that the man was still on defensive, waiting for the next attack. He could sense the power house in the shorter man. He's had training, if not specialist training. He was certain he'd seen him before. Croatia?

The man's eyes narrowed. His voice held a southern accent as he spoke. "Who are you?"

"Michael Weston. I was just walking down the hall -" He answered.

If possible, the man's defenses went up even more. Before he could finish his sentence Eliot lunged forward, leaping over the unconscious bodies and shoving him into a room door. "Did he send you!?"

"Who?" Michael said as the man's forearm pressed against his throat. He pushed against the man's grip. Before he knew it, the door opened and he was falling backwards into the room behind it. Startled voices sounded behind him. He jumped to his feet, seeing a blonde woman and a dark man sitting at the small table.

"Did he send you?" The long-haired man slammed the door behind him, grabbing a hold of his collar and hauling him to his feet.

"I don't know who you're talking about." Michael's arms shot out and clamped around the man's neck. "Calm down."

Seconds later Michael was on the floor again, a hand gripping his neck threateningly. He noticed the man on top of him look up at the other people. A strange look crossed his face. Then the realization dawned, he was protecting them. That's why he was so aggressive. "I'm not going to hurt them. I was just walking by."

"Eliot man, what's going on?" the dark man asked, rising to his feet. He took in the hitter's ripped paid shirt and bloody lip, wondering what the other guy was going to look like.

He waved them off as he allowed Michael to stand. "Moreau didn't send you?"

"No. I don't even know who that is."

"What's going on?" the girl repeated. She didn't look panicked; she looked ready to get in on the fight.

Eliot looked over at her. "We're blown."

"No way man, I was using aliases to book this thing while we were walking to it." The other man protested.

"There are six men in the hall that say otherwise Hardison." Eliot snapped. "We need to get out of here before Moreau's men come to and report back to him"

Michael watched the exchange. Who were these people? Two things were Obvious. 1: These people were in trouble. 2: This Moreau sounded like a bad dude. "Who is Moreau?"

Eliot stared at him, the clothes he had stuffed in a bag now forgotten. How did he not know who this man was?

"A gun runner." Hardison offered, looking to Eliot. What on earth was going on?

"He's into everything." Eliot amended as he threw the last article into the bag.

"He's evil." Parker threw out.

"We can't stay here." Eliot checked the window for the eighth time.

"Who are you guys?" Michael was almost afraid to hear the answer.

The trio glanced at each other before the girl answered. "We're thieves."

He was flabbergasted. They seemed proud to admit it. But he knew from experience that not everything is as it seems.

The long-haired man stepped forward. "Eliot Spenser."

Now he knew for sure. He shook the man's hand. "Croatia?"

Eliot smiled and nodded. "Croatia."

* * *

><p>Sophie worked her hand cuff against the chair rail. Once she had gotten out of a similar situation by using the cuffs to break the wood. This time though, her hands had been attached to the legs and not the arms, leaving her slightly hunched. She couldn't get the proper angle. She groaned in frustration.<p>

She had tried to con each of the guards that had come in. She had failed miserably. She wondered if they didn't speak English or if they were just ignoring her.

After Moreau had broken Nate's leg, he had pretty much ignored them. Once a day, someone brought them water. There were always two guards in the same room, but they never spoke to each other or to the captives. They were more afraid of Moreau than them. They had been there for nearly two days, and she was starting to feel the effects of lack food. To her embarrassment, her stomach rumbled loudly. She wondered if she could grift them something to eat.

Next to her, Nate stilled. Like her, he had worked on his bonds for the last hour. He would almost swear that the guards were smirking at their struggles. His leg ached mightily, throbbing harder any time he moved it.

He had turned the problem over in his mind. He couldn't think of a way out of this one, not when they weren't letting her talk. He had to trust that his team would get here in time.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you can trust him?" Hardison asked for the hundredth time.<p>

Eliot barely spared him a glance in the rear view mirror. His inclination was to be annoyed at the constant prodding, but he understood the wariness. He had asked himself that many times before agreeing to go with him.

In the hotel room Michael had explained a bit about himself and offered to help them. To their surprise, he operated a lot like them. When the others looked to him for a decision, he agreed to accept the help. "We have to trust someone."

They were currently weaving their rented car through the Miami traffic, after the black charger.

"For an ex-spy, he has a flashy car." Hardison commented with a grin. "I wonder if his pad is the same way."

Eliot had to agree. The man had good taste in cars. From the sound of the other car's engine, it had a good motor in it. His gaze was distracted when Parker poked him in the ribs. He hid his smile and pretended not to notice her teasing.

When he didn't pay attention to her, she hooked a finger under his shirt, her cool fingers tickling his skin. He gently moved her hand. Placing it on the seat, he gave her a look and subtly shook his head.

"I can't get anything more off the DVD." Hardison told them. "Just normal sounds you hear all over. Moreau was smart."

Eliot tightened his grip on the steering wheel. _Not for long._ They ditched the car two miles out and rode the rest of the way with Michael.

They were surprised that the man lived in a warehouse loft over a club. Parker loved the look of it. She saw the high ceiling, the raised loft that held a computer and a couch, and the bed in the center of the room. It was so much like one of her places, that she felt at ease there . To the right of the door was a work table piled with scraps and tools. A curtain hid the shower and bathroom. To the far left was a small kitchenette.

They told him the story. How they had been approached to take down Moreau, and how they had done it. Eliot left out the part of him working for him. That was none of his business.

"An election?" Michael was incredulous. "That was you guys?"

"Yep." Hardison grinned. He was still proud of that con. It took some skill on everyone's part.

Michael shook his head. He had pulled off some complicated jobs before, but these guys were in another league. This Moreau guy sounded like bad news. He didn't want him here in Miami. He briefly wondered if Fiona had ever crossed paths with him.

Hardison went up the stairs to set up on the platform with the other computer. Parker sprawled out on the mattress. She hung her head off the edge and started to think about a plan.

The door opened suddenly and a petite, brown-haired woman in an impossibly small dress strolled in. "Michael, I found the best restaurant. We should go tonight." She trailed off when she saw Parker sprawled across the bed. "Oh, I didn't know you had company." She added coolly.

"New clients." Michael corrected with a look. He reached into the fridge for a yogurt. "Kind of. They run a crew out of Portland."

"A crew?" Fiona wondered why Michael was allowing a group of thieves to be in his home. She crossed the room to the bar and leaned against it. She could see two men up on the platform, setting up equipment.

"Babe this computer is from the 90's!" A voice floated down from the platform.

Parker rolled her eyes. "Just find them! I'm tired of sitting around."

"We can't go bustin' in there without a plan, Parker." Eliot's southern draw went down the steps before he did as left Hardison to his moaning and came down the stairs. He paused as he saw the new woman's eyes narrow. They recognized each other at the same instant. The spark was felt across the room.

The woman launched herself across the room at him. Before anyone could react, she landed a solid punch to the hitter's jaw. "You!"

Michael, Parker and Hardison seemed to be struck dumb by the outburst.

"You nearly got me killed!" she shouted. She flashed everyone her underwear as she aimed a kick at Eliot's chest. He caught her foot before it connected and dumped her onto the floor. She sprang back up and swiped at his face, her nails raking his cheek. He growled menacingly. He launched across the floor, swinging an open palm at her face, knocking her back a step.

"Fi stop!" Michael said as they danced across the loft, both trading punches and kicks, neither gaining the upper hand. Their size difference would have been funny if they weren't so evenly matched in skill.

Both fighters ignored him. Hardison leaned over the rail to get a better look as Fiona kicked again at Eliot's head, only to have it land on his shoulder. He picked her up and flung her away. She landed briefly on the mattress and was on her feet again.

Michael dropped his yogurt and grabbed Fiona around the waist to haul her back. He dodged an elbow to the face in the process.

Parker and Hardison followed his lead, hurrying to Eliot. Only the former was brave enough to try to restrain him.

"Fi stop!" Michael warned a second time. He kept his arms locked around her tense body. If he let go, she would pounce again. "We have a bigger problem than him.

"Worse than the man who tried to kill me?" Fiona's voice held an edge. Why was this man here? Why didn't Michael care?

"You were stealing my shipment of Romanovs." Eliot reminded her with a slight smirk. "And I missed on purpose."

Michael gave him a look. "Enough you two, he slung her in the direction of his bed. "Damien Moreau is in town."

That stopped her in her tracks, her anger fizzling. "What?"

"He came into Miami last week." Hardison said.

"Are you sure?" She turned to Michael. "Michael, this is a really bad man. He can't be here in Miami. "

"Believe it or not, he is here." Hardison said. "He kidnapped our friends."

"Are you sure?" Fi said. "Michael, he's bad, really bad. Worse than the people who burned you."

Michael felt a growing nervousness. If she was scared of this guy, it's bad.

* * *

><p>Parker lay across the mattress. To anyone looking, she appeared to be staring into oblivion. But in reality, her mind was racing. She was going over the problem in her head, like Nate had taught her. He always trusted her to come through on her part. He had once told her that she would make a good master mind if she worked at it.<p>

She blinked, bringing herself back to the present. She watched Michael and Fiona conversing in the kitchen. She seemed worried about something. He said something calming to her as they made a few phone calls.

Another man walked into the loft a half an hour later. He was older than the others and was wearing a multicolored shirt. They introduced him as Sam.

He stood with the others as both teams talked over the plan. Parker, who had remained silent through most of the conversation, spoke up. "No, that plan won't work."

All eyes turned to her as she up righted herself on the bed. "When we were working that one job, Moreau wanted a trade before he would give Eliot any information. I think we should do the same thing."

"It makes sense." Hardison quickly agreed. He did like his head games.

"OK, How should we handle this?"

"You guy will have to handle the face to face," Eliot began. "We can't step outside with his men looking for us. The hotel was proof enough of that."

"What's your suggestion?"

"Make contact as if you were competition that he is in your area." Eliot said, picking up Parker's line of thought. "Offer to work together or leave town. Whatever you think will get him talking. Do something that will get you in the door. Look for Nate and Sophie, so we can extract them next time you go back."

Michael nodded, already formulating a plan. They would need the security count, floor plan and security measures.

Fiona's phone buzzed just then. Checking the id, she answered. She moved around as she spoke, finally resting her hip against the balcony door jam. When she returned, she had a triumphant look on her face. "I found out where he is. He is leasing a house at this address."

"That's in the Keys." Michael offered.

Hardison came over to them with a small case in his hand. "Let's get you miked up." He handed each of them an ear bud.

"What are these for" Fiona asked. They had never needed them before.

"These ear buds have a gps signature that I can track, if you get into trouble." Hardison explained. "We can hear what you can hear and you can hear us."

"That sounds annoying." Sam commented. "Having all the voices in your head."

"Believe it or not, it helps." Eliot said. "If you think it will get in your way while you are grifting, you can take it out."

"We'll give it a try." Michael said. "Let's go."

"One more thing," Eliot said as they started to leave. "Don't trust him, no matter what he says about us."

"I still don't like this, Mikey." Sam stated from his place by the door.

"We got this Sam. Don't worry." Micheal tried to assure him. "Keep an eye on them."

Sam looked doubtful. He knew that Fiona was high strung and could get them into trouble.

Parker watched the couple leave. She wanted to go with them so bad. But the button camera that they put on Michael would let her see Nate and Sophie. She joined Eliot and Hardison up on the scaffolding so she could watch.

"We'll see how good of actors they are." Hardison commented dry.

"You don't become that good of a spy without learning to act." Eliot said.

Just as Michael and Fiona were pulling out of the gate, Eliot's cell phone rang. The number was blocked. "Go."

"Most people just say hello, Spencer." Moreau said.

Eliot stiffened at the sound of the voice. He motioned to the others as he put it on speaker. Hardison was back up the stairs and trying to trace the call. "Where are you?"

"Come on, Spencer, do you really think that I'm going to tell you that? " his voice sounded triumphant. "And you might as well tell your hacker friend that he won't be able to track this call."

Hardison rolled his eyes and continued to work at it. Nothing is unhackable.

"What do you want Moreau?"

"I want you to do something for me." Moreau stated. "There is an art gallery in Miami that has some Iraqi antiquities. Acquire these, and I will give you the location for a trade."

"I want proof of life." Eliot demanded.

Moreau chuckled. "Always the same."

There was a brief pause before a scuffling noise came over the speaker, followed closely by the sound of skin on skin and Nate groaning.

Eliot bit his tongue to stay quiet. Speaking up would only make it worse.

"Satisfied?" Moreau's voice carried over the groaning. "That was Mr. Ford. Shall I move on to Mrs. Ford?"

Parker couldn't stand the sound of Nate being beaten. She lept over the railing and thumped to the floor, disappearing out the patio door.

Eliot's voice was tight as he answered. "I won't deliver for a dead man."

"Calm down, Spencer." Moreau said, his tone suggesting boredom. "I haven't damaged the property. "Only scuffed. Now, do we have a deal?"

Hardison gave Eliot a look that said don't do it, but there was no other choice. If he didn't play ball, Michael wouldn't have time to put their plan into action. "Ok."

"I will call you tomorrow." Moreau stated. "You have till then to retrieve the artifacts."

The line went dead. Eliot looked over to the others expectantly. "Anything?"

Hardison looked over the railing. "I was able to narrow it down to South Florida, but that was it. He wasn't lying when he said it was hard to trace."

* * *

><p>Parker sat out on Michael Weston's balcony, staring at the blue water below. It swirled and gurgled like her muddled thoughts. She hated being cooped up, but Eliot insisted that it was better this way. He seemed to trust this Michael Weston. Even though he and his team seemed to do stuff like them, she still wasn't ready to trust the group yet.<p>

_Eliot._ Why was he in her thoughts from the moment she woke to the time she went to bed? She had never felt like that with Hardison. With him, she had a playful relationship, but was losing interest with him and his 'dates'. She felt like she was drifting and had no way or idea how to get back. She was so confused. All she wanted was to talk to Sophie and find out what was going on.

She could hear them talking inside. Plotting and planning, trying to get the upper hand on Moreau. He was one of the few men that scared her. He was so corrupt and _evil_ for lack of a better word. She shuttered to think what he was doing to Nate and Sophie.

* * *

><p>"So how are your coms better than our bugs?" Sam asked testily. Hardsion had been bragging for twenty minutes on his equipment.<p>

"Judging from the work bench down there, your bugs are busted up cell phones that keep a line open." Hardison explained. "My coms work off the vibrations in your jaw. If a cellphone jammer is on, these still work. They are hard to see in the ear unless you are looking for it. "

"I'm impressed." Sam meant what he said. He wished that they had some of these. It would have gotten them out of or kept them from some sticky situations.

While the two men monitored the coms and talked equipment, Eliot noticed that it had been a while since he'd seen Parker. The bragging men never noticed him as he went down the steps and out the open doors.

Parker was sitting on the railing with her back resting against the wall. She was staring out at the people across the river, looking to be miles away. He leaned against the rail by her leg, quietly waiting for her to speak first.

After a pause, he said. "They're going to be ok."

"That's not what I was thinking." She stated quietly.

He turned to face her. "What's on your mind?"

"It's not the right time to be talking about it." she said.

"Since when has that ever stopped you?" Eliot smiled. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm all confused inside." She began hesitantly. "I don't think I'm in love with Hardison anymore. I still have feelings for him, but they are not the same as before. I don't care if some girl hits on him. I don't want to do the same things or be with him the way he wants."

She paused, unsure if she should continue. His piercing gaze unsettling. Should she tell him what she was thinking? Before she could decide, Eliot's mouth came down unexpectedly on hers, kissing her more aggressively than Hardison ever did.

Parker only hesitated a moment before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She felt a sudden burst of passion that she had never felt before, as if Eliot had unlocked a door that she didn't know she had. She returned the kiss just as eagerly. She felt happy inside, that was the only way she could explain it. She had never felt this way with Hardison. She now realized who she was really in love with.

When Eliot felt her respond to him, he slid his hands up under the hem of her shirt, caressing her back. He loved the feeling of having her in his arms. She was so warm and alive under his fingers.

Parker took a quick breath as his lips trailed across her jaw, then down her neck. His breath tickled her skin and she giggled like a twelve year old. She thrust her fingers into his hair and pulled his face back to hers. She couldn't get enough of him. She shivered as his fingers fluttered over her ribs. She slid one of her hands under his shirt and explored his muscled back.

They were so wrapped up in each other that they'd forgotten that their ear buds were still on. They also failed to hear the footstep on the porch.

"Parker!"

The surprised shout startled her so much that she might have fallen off the rail if she hadn't been wrapped around Eliot's warm body. They broke apart, Eliot taking a step back, looking guilty.

"Hardison…" Parker fumbled for words.

"Don't even...how could you?" Hardison's angry face turned to Eliot. "What's wrong with you man?"

"We didn't mean…" Parker tried again, but he spun around and stalked off. She slid off the rail and followed him into the loft where Sam Axe was clearly eavesdropping. She grabbed Hardison's shoulder.

Hardison pushed her off, turning to shout at the little thief. "How could you Parker? I trusted you."

Eliot was at her side in a second. His voice was low as he spoke. "Don't shout at her, it's not her –"

Hardison didn't wait to hear the rest. He flung his fist straight into the other man's jaw, putting all his anger behind it.

Eliot's head snapped around and he rocked back on his heels, but did not fall. His vision steadied to see the hacker stalking out the door. Parker stood staring after him, a shocked look on her face.

"Whoa, man." Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to get involved in the spat. He had vaguely heard about the hitter and didn't want to tangle with him. "What's this all about?"

"None of your business." Eliot growled. He hadn't realized that Parker was outside until he heard her scream his name.


	5. Chapter 5

I own nothing. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Eliot hadn't realized that Parker was outside until he heard her scream his name.<p>

Parker had followed Hardison out onto the landing, but his long legs had already carried him passed the gate. He didn't look back as he crossed the street. Her chest ached; she never wanted to hurt him. Her gaze was arrested suddenly as a car screeched to a stop near Hardison and three men jumped out and rushed for Hardison.

"Eliot!" Parker screamed and one of the men spotted her. "They're here!"

Eliot was out the door before Sam could even get to his feet. He punched his way through the man who had come for Parker. Seconds later the man was unconscious and he was running for the car.

Sam, gun in hand, yanked Parker back into the loft. He hoped that unlike Fi, she would actually listen. "Wait inside."

From his vantage point, Sam watched one of the two remaining men fire a gun at Hardison and he fell to the pavement seconds later. He hadn't heard the report; it must have been a tranquiller dart. He was moving sluggishly as they threw him into the back of the car.

Sam pulled his gun and hurried down the stairs, checking to make sure Eliot's victim was still out. He looked up to see them fire on Eliot, the dart sticking into his neck. He bolted out the gate; firing at the men as Eliot stumbled, still fighting them off as the drugs flowed through his system. The man gripping Eliot fell as Sam's bullet tore into his back.

The remaining man must have decided that Eliot was not worth it because he jumped back into the car, throwing it into reverse. Eliot stood groggily, stumbling after the car, and Hardison.

Before Sam could shout a warning, the car shot forward, clipping Eliot in the hip and sending him rolling over the roof and down the back of the car. He landed hard on the pavement, his head connecting with the blacktop.

Sam fired a few more shots at the tires of the fleeing car, but it did little good. The sedan disappeared around the corner. He knelt by the fallen man, hoping he wasn't dead. He felt a strong pulse under his fingers. But there was some blood under his head.

"Eliot!" Parker skidded to a stop next to them, reaching for Eliot.

"Careful!" Sam gently lifted Elliot's head and pushed his hair back, looking for the source of the blood. There was a superficial scrape down the side of his face, near the hair line. "It looks worse than it is. But we should get to the hospital in case his hip was damaged from impact."

Eliot, who had been fighting against the drugs, started to roll on his back. "No hospital."

Sam sighed. _Just like Mike._ "Get your stuff, Parker. We can't stay here."

Parker didn't want to leave Eliot, who was only semi-conscious. "But..."

"Do it now, I'll get him to the car." Sam practically shooed her away.

Parker hesitated another moment before running off to obey.

Sam helped Eliot to his feet, then practically drug him to the car. He lay the hitter in the back seat. Parker came down with Hardison's computer stuff and got in the front.

He called Mike as he drove. "Mike, call me back when you get this. Do not got back to the loft, we've had a situation."

By the time he reached Madeline's house, the hitter was completely out. The house was empty when they parked.

Together they half carried, half drug the unconscious Eliot into the house. His shorter frame carried a lot of muscle and that made him heavier than Sam had anticipated.

They gently laid him on the bed in the spare room. Parker climbed on next to him, sitting with her arms wrapped around her legs. This was all her fault. Would Hardison ever forgive her? Would he be ok? He was kidnapped because of her. She bowed her head and cried softly.

* * *

><p>Nate wasn't going to lie. He hurt. Bad. When Moreau had placed the call to Eliot, he listened as the man walked into the other room. He wanted to hear what he was being said, but was only able to catch a few muffled snippets.<p>

In the next moment, he reentered the living room, the phone still held to the side of his head. He strode over to the captives and punched Nate in the face.

Nate's head snapped to the left hard enough to rock the chair. Before it settled, Moreau toppled it. Nate managed to jerk his head up before it hit the floor. He groaned as the impact sent jolts of fire up and down his broken leg. But in the next second, that pain was overshadowed when Moreau kicked him repeatedly in the torso. He gasped when the pounding suddenly cease, trying to catch his breath. He could hear him rap up his call to Eliot.

After ending the call, Moreau stared at Nate for a beat. He gave him one last kick before striding out of the room.

Nate felt his rib break as the air stuck in this throat. He coughed, trying to get his breath back. He rested his head on the floor, annoyed to find that his chair hadn't broken in the fall. He had been working the cuffs against the strut, trying to weaken it. But it hadn't worked.

* * *

><p>Fiona was unsure of the plan. Her mind was spinning as they drove through the streets. She had heard stories about the gunrunner. Thankfully she had never crossed paths with the man himself, He was ruthless. She voiced her concerns to Michael.<p>

"I know, but like you said, he is bad. We need to get him off the streets." Michael said. "I don't want a man like that to stay here permanently."

The address they had been given was too large to be called a house. I was more of an estate. A large, rot iron fence circled a very tidy lawn. The lawn was so perfect that it almost looked fake. The gate was just closing when they arrived.

Wanting to make a bold entrance, Michael accelerated straight through the closing iron and screeched to a halt in front of the door. No less than six men met them with various grade of weapon. Fiona brandished a shot gun nearly half the size of herself.

"Hi." Michael greeted with a cocky grin. "We want to talk with your boss."

A large, dark skinned man who seemed to be in charge thought for a moment. "Who's asking?"

"Michael Weston."

He spoke into a radio keeping his eye on the newcomers. A tense moment later, there was a garbled answer. The men lowered their weapons slightly. "Leave you weapons out here."

Fiona's face hardened. "You leave your weapons out here."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Right, we're going to announce ourselves before we kill your boss."

The man considered them for a moment before standing aside and letting them in. They were escorted into a large den area. The open room was large and sunken slightly, a half wall of built in book cases that had decorative columns on top of them divided the room from a dinning/kitchen area. The cozy white walls and furniture were in stark contrast to the man and woman that were tied to their chairs. They recognized them from the pictures they were shown.

To the left of the couple, a taller man lounged on a couch. He was dressed in an expensive black suit and his dark hair was slicked back. His equally dark eyes had a glint that was unsettling.

Michael gave a winning smile. He crossed his arms. "Hi, my name is Michael Weston."

"The Michael Weston, the burned spy? I have heard a lot about you." Moreau's eyes flickered over them. A greasy smile spread over his face. "Fiona Glenanne. It is nice to finally meet you."

"I don't believe that we have met." She said.

"I make it a point to know all fellow gunrunners." He cocked his head. "Still in the business?"

"Occasionally." She answered. His sharp look was starting to make her uncomfortable.

Moreau caught her looking at the captives. He waved a hand dismissively at them. "Don't worry about them, other business. What do you want Mr. Weston?"

"We were just in the neighborhood, heard you were new so we decided to drop in and give you some friendly advice."

"What is that?" Moreau asked humorously.

"We work Miami." Michael's smile was easy but his stance was tense. "And we don't like competition."

Moreau seemed amused at the statement. "Oh really, so you are here to run me out?"

"No, that would be a rookie move." Michael assured him. He walked over to a small wet bar and poured himself a glass of scotch. "I'm suggesting a partnership of sorts."

He went on describing the 'partnership'. As he was talking, Fiona's glanced over the captives. The woman, who was probably very particular about her dress, looked like she had been drug through the beach. But she didn't seem injured outside a few bruises on her face. The man was a different story. His arms and face were bruised; his lip was split in two places, his leg was bent at a painful looking angle suggesting that it was broken.

Turning back to the conversation at hand, she was worried to see the patronizing look on Moreau's face. He wasn't buying it.

Michael had realized this as well. He had started talking them out the door. "You can think it over. 50/50, plus finder's fees on either side, that is my offer."

She sensed subtle movement behind them, the lackeys were moving into position to jump them. She suddenly brought the gun up and pointed it at Nate. "I want him."

"Fi!" Michael burst out. At the same moment Sophie yelled. "NO!"

The body guards immediately drew their guns, the safeties of five glocks clicked off at the same instant. Moreau stilled them with his hand. Now he was curious.

"They are not for sale, it is a personal matter." Moreau said. "Why do you want him?"

"I can't go home. " She explained, her natural Irish accent now flowing. "But, if I give the son of Jimmy Ford to the three families, I will have protection and passage back to Ireland."

Nate chuckled dryly. "The three families have no interest in me."

Now it was Fiona's turn to smile. "Then why did you leave Boston?"

Nate couldn't answer that. Not without jeopardizing future cons for the team.

Moreau seemed to think for a moment. "I'll tell you what. If you can capture the rest of his team, and bring them here alive, I will give him to you."

"No!" Sophie interrupted.

"Who?" Fiona ventured. This could work out good. The plan was morphing already in her mind.

"A former retrieval specialist of mine, Eliot Spencer." He told them. "He's in Miami somewhere. Bring him and his team to me alive, and I will give you Nate Ford."

Fiona pretended to think it over, looking at Michael before back at Moreau. She lowered her shot gun slightly. "Deal."

"Bring him back alive, or there is no deal." Moreau warned. He motioned to his man. He stepped forward and handed Michael a file on Eliot. The spy flipped through, reading the highlights. Jeez, this guy was almost as scary as Moreau. At least he was on their side.

"Think you can handle Mr. Spencer?" Moreau asked him.

Michael snapped it shut. "I have dealt with worse."

"Do not underestimate him." The arms dealer warned. "He fights like a rabid tiger."

Michael and Fiona felt eyes and guns on them as they exited the house and got back intot he car. They did not relax until they were a mile away.

"That was pleasant." Fiona commented. Her skin was crawling from the leer that he had given her. She never wanted to be in a room by herself with that man.

Michael rolled his eyes. He felt his phone vibrate and picked it up, listening to the voice mail. "We have a problem."

Sophie watched the two leave, speaking fearfully to her husband. "What are we going to do?"

Nate might have chuckled if the situation were different. "He's not going to trade me; it's not in his nature. He'll kill them when they do what he wants."

"That's not very comforting."

Nate sighed, wishing he could say something to help. But if Moreau was really willing to trade him to the Irish mob, he was in trouble. He had angered them several times over the years. "It's ok Soph, they'll come for us. Don't worry."

She nodded, trying to draw strength from his confidence. The more she thought about the two spies, the more she realized that something was off about the man. As a grifter, she could tell when someone was lying – mostly.

The door opened just then and two men came in, dragging a third man between them. She gasped seeing the familiar dark skin and clothing. Oh no, Hardison!

The hacker had been drugged; his body was limp as they tied his arms to a sport column over his head.

How did they get him? Where are the others? Her stomach dropped as Moreau stepped over to him.

"Where are the others, Alexi?" he asked.

The man cringed under his boss' gaze. "They had back up. Mark almost had the hitter, but they shot him."

Something else happened. Nate could detect the note in the fearful man's voice. There he wasn't telling his boss.

So could Moreau. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I hit him with the car.."

"I didn't want him dead." Moreau menaced.

"I didn't hit him that hard." Sweat broke out on Alexi's face as he stammered to explain.

Moreau simply motioned to a man behind them. He pulled his weapon and shot the man dead.

Moreau laughed at the look of shock and fear on his captive's faces. "Get it out of my sight."

A heavy silence fell over the room, tinged with a cold fear.

* * *

><p>Hardison regained his senses slowly. His arms numb and he found that he couldn't move them. He struggled to open his eyes, but quickly gave up. The heavey lids felt as if they had been cemented closed.<p>

The memory of the abduction and the moments leading up to it floated to the fore front of his mind. He fumed at the memory.

He had been sitting in the loft, keeping track of Michael and Fiona, monitoring the communications. He muted Michael and Fiona's coms so that he could hear them, but they wouldn't get distracted by extra voices in their head.

He had been talking to Sam when he had first noticed Parker and Eliot's absence from the room. Once Sam stopped speaking, he had heard them on the coms. His gut tightened. They wouldn't….

He lunged out of the chair and down the metal steps, wanting to confirm his suspicions. He was stunned at seeing his girlfriend wrapped around his best friend, making out like there was no tomorrow. He remembered stalking outside, a car, then nothing.

He was brought back to the present by a familure voice urgently calling his name. "Hardison! Hardison!"

Hardison forced his eyes open, wincing at the bright sunlight that streamed uninhibited through a huge picture window. Blinking to clear his vision, he saw Nate and Sophie tied to chairs along the far wall. He realized that his arms were tied over his head to a decorative post. The shelves dug into his back.

"Thank goodness!" Sophie exclaimed when she saw him awake. She shifted in her seat, trying to relive the awful cramp in her back. "Are you ok?"

Hardison swallowed a few times to get the moisture back into his mouth. "Just peachy."

Sophie noticed that the guards had turned with their backs facing the captives. She leaned as far forward as the cuffs would allow. "Hardison, do you still have your ear bud?"

Hardison shook his head. "I think they took it out."

"Are the others ok?" Sophie prodded.

Hardison cursed, startling them. "Probably too busy making out to notice me gone."

Sophie and Nate gave each other a look. What was happening in their absence?


End file.
